Teenage Dream
by Blankedty
Summary: "Why'd he bring her back so soon?" Michael asked. "Maybe they're going to meet up somewhere later for wild anal sex." "What the fuck is wrong with you?" "What?" "Why would you say that to me?" "Isn't that what you were thinking?" "No." "Oh. I'm thinking Frank is probably too big for your daughter's rear end opening
1. Young

A/n: No copyright infringement intended.

Teenage Dream

It was dim in that place; only lit by blazing blue, gallant green, and odd orange lights. The floor, a black sea of dropped pills, empty beer bottles and designer shoes. The music so loud the throbbing of it in one's head could be the confused with the fast beating of one's heart. Half naked females danced with men who forgot they had obligations. It was smoggy even when sober one could feel intoxication of some kind.

He couldn't believe it. Here he was. Dressed in a shirt that wasn't dirty. Well…not too dirty. Sneakers. His tennis sneakers but still…navy jeans and whatever else Franklin told him was decent looking for the night. Not that he really cared or anything. But what made the matter seem all the more surreal was that he was talking to a woman.

Not yelling.

Not threatening.

Not choking.

Talking.

He was talking to a woman. A young woman rather. Her skin was a smooth hazelnut. Her eyes were a brown that seemed to have speckles of stardust. Her lips were a nude color that he wanted to run his tongue over. She wore a sleeveless, skin tight dress and was from Broker. A college student going to LSU. She was telling him of how she hated Los Santos and that all the people were faux. A forgery of worth and value. That pretty much caught the peak of his interest. It's what started the conversation in the first place.

She told him she only came to screen write. It was her dream to make movies. But what he really liked about her was that she was not offended, surprised, or scared by the very interesting details of his entrepreneurship. She wasn't turned off at all. Not even when he told of how Wade licked red 'syrup' off his shirt after his visit to Floyd and Debra's place. She didn't wince once.

He felt good about that.

Oh, what was he doing? To be that age? To be talking to a girl who was half that age. To be putting his arm around her waist - buying the drinks of this young woman – laughing at her jokes. What was he doing?

He was waiting for it to get late enough. Waiting for it to get dark enough. Waiting for her to get drunk enough. Waiting for her to run her hands over his manhood again. Though Michael was always stuck in the 80's, he himself couldn't see why he'd want to go back.

Here was this – young, beautiful, possibly as crazy as him to not fear him – girl, talking to him. And here he was listening. And she was listening to him. He could get use to the attention.

Franklin tried to get a look at the girl that was making Trevor's night, but his head was turned away by a soft pale hand. He looked at the girl and she shook her head in disapproval. With platinum blonde hair and blue eyes she pouted her candy pink lips. "Pay attention only to me, baby." She said. He nodded accordingly. The girl was sitting in his lap and trailing her delicate fingers on his jawline.

It was good to be his age. It was so good.

He was young. Good looking. Loaded. He had just about everything. He was tall. Smart. The list of his attributes could go on. He never wanted to get old. Michael and Trevor definitely made sure to scare him of that. He'd never be this young again. Never be this good looking again. Well…maybe good looking. They say black don't crack.

He was telling the pretty pale lady about his garages. About all the fancy cars he drove. How fast they could go. How the speed made him feel. That he could give her a test drive sometime. The girl smiled and whispered to him that the only wheel she wanted him behind was hers. He liked that part.

Here he was. Bagging white bitches. He'd have to tell Lamar about that.

Michael sighed then sipped his beer. What was he doing there? There was no scene for him. The girls there was half his age. Meaning he could be their father. He was their father. Tracey was their age. He hoped she hadn't chosen to go clubbing that night. And if she did, not to where he presently was.

The idea of a bunch of Tracey's rubbing their asses on men like himself, men like Trevor – who was now making out with the brown Broker babe – just made his stomach turn. Where were these girls' fathers? Where?

He wanted to go home. He had given up on the night when he saw Lester go to the bathroom with his cane, followed by a woman who clearly had too much to drink. Even Lester was going to score. What was he doing? This wasn't his scene. It wasn't him. He got up from the lounge and walked over to Franklin.

"Hey kid – I'm gonna go."

"Really? You want me to drive you home? I know you came with Trevor –"

"Nah, it's good. I'll hail a taxi."

"Alright man, be cool. Catch you later."

"Yeah. You too."

Michael headed to the exit, but not without having young women rub alcohol in his hair, calling him daddy and trying to pull his blazer off. Yeah, at one point he was young enough to enjoy that – but he missed that time.

When he should have been staying up late to do blow off the bellies of women and fucking, he was making plans for his next big thing. His thing being theft and possibly murder. Maybe more. The one time he was that age he fell in love and tied the knot. How he missed, and didn't miss the past. How he missed and didn't miss his youth.

And as he pushed open the door to the Bahama Mama West he stared at her. Her hair was let loose, long and wavy, framing her face. Her lipstick was a retro red and she wore Tracey's clothes. A tight leather jacket, with only a bra underneath. Her leopard print pants were even tighter and her pumps a retro glam red like her lips.

There she was before him like a Teenage Dream. When seeing her – he wanted so bad to be young again. To relive when he met her and fell in love.

"Where you headed Mr. De Santa?" Amanda asked. She pushed him back into the club and against a wall.

"What are you doing here?" He asked almost breathlessly.

"Me? I'm just looking for a good time." She held him by the collar of his shirt and crushed her fiery lips against his. She brushed her hands over his manhood and his arms circled around her waist holding and pressing her into his body.

Oh to be young again.

A/n: If anyone would like for more chapters, let me know. I did intend for this to be a one shot – but I'm open to writing more.


	2. A Story You Can Tell

A/n: No copyright infringement intended.

The marvelous dark blue sky hinted a hue of light as the sun peaked and gave dim rays of orange through the window panes of Los Santos. Early morning joggers stretched, inhaled deeply and began running. Their feet hitting the pavement, with a rubber feel ever so lightly for the sneakers they wore were top of the line and guaranteed comfort. Those were the kind of neighbors she had.

Her clothes came off more quickly than her drinks went down, he thought. Her skin was smooth and glittered in the few thin rays of incoming sunlight. She was a bronzed masterpiece. He had been dying to devour her at Bahama Mama and now he was in her overpriced apartment. Kissing her on overpriced bed sheets. Making her moan as he sucked her skin and she grabbed on the collar of his cheap button down. Running his fingers through her short dark hair. Her fingers traced the line of his 'Cut Here" tattoo.

They both drank too much. They both laughed a lot. They both had a good time and were ready to enjoy the frosting on the cake.

He didn't realize it was so late – or early – until they stumbled through her front door. Or at least, what he thought was her front door. He remembered her saying she rented the room from a friend and got a pretty good price for it. It was the only reason she'd pay for something so 'over the top'.

He was too drunk to judge her. She didn't give him the impression of stuck up Vinewood bitch, but her apartment said otherwise. Again – he was too drunk to judge. Besides, he had only come for sex. And there it was. They had sex and there was nothing else for him to say.

He pulled his pants back up and struggled a little with the zipper. The after effects of his drunkenness were settling in. From under the sheets, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. He looked at her and smirked. He liked that she liked. Him. The sex. Everything. His ego was being stroked in a way it hadn't been in a long time.

"This is where we end the night miss."

"I never got your name." She said. She sat up and held the sheets over her chest. He could see the outline of her frame and he was still amazed such a beautiful woman had wanted to be with him. She even cared enough to ask his name.

"It's not important. Not like we'll be seeing much of each other after this." He told her.

"Well – that's true. Though, I would like to know the name of the man who inspired my next screenplay."

"I don't think you do."

"…alright. I understand." She stared at him for a while. Trevor looked away. Once he was done straightening himself up, he headed towards the bedroom door. He turned around for a moment and stared back at her. Their eyes met and he walked over to the bed. He laid down and stared at the ceiling fan. His eyes followed it as it spun its circles.

"I'll tell you a story you can write."

The young woman searched in her nightstand for pen and notepad. She returned to face him. Her eyes stared at her page and she squeezed her pen hard.

"There were these two guys. They were complete strangers and had a bunch of differences – but one. They were both were good at doing bad things. So, they came together to do a series of bad things. They made a friendship out of it. They became best friends because of it. One of them was real happy about that. It was the first time he had someone had could rely on." Trevor's voice lowered as he talked. He closed his eyes and the girl slowly looked over to him, away from her pen and blank paper.

"Then one of them fell in love with a woman who cramped his style. He, slowly but surely, started to change. It's like when your shirt get snagged and that thread unwinds. And you keep you walking. Not knowing."

The room was poorly lit, a yellow glow on the ceiling from the dull bulb. Walls were dingy and worn. There was a swelling of the wood of the window pane, showing water had made its way in. It was covered poorly by black tape – to keep the heat from coming out. A large blue couch with a body print on the far right was the in the middle of the room. Across from it a medium sized tube television. A dark coffee table between the two of them. There he sat with his feet up and an infant in his arms.

"Are you sure you have it under control?" Amanda asked Michael as she pinned up her hair in a messy up-do. She applied natural looking makeup and double checked her reflection in the mirror before heading out the bathroom of their small apartment.

"Of course." Michael told her. He sunk into the couch bouncing a newborn Jimmy in his arms.

"His formula is in the refrigerator. Make sure Tracey finishes her homework and please call me at work if anything is up." She buttoned up her coat and wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck.

"I got it. Now go." Michael waved his free hand motioning Amanda to leave and she glared at him.

"Don't treat me like a dog!" She walked over to the sofa, lightly slapped his forehead kissed Jimmy on the head. "My little man. Take good care of daddy." She kissed his toes then walked towards the door. She turned to Michael once again. "Please don't have Trevor over tonight. I don't like him around the kids."

"Yeah, I got you." Michael did not look away from the TV once. Amanda sighed and exited, slamming the door in the process. The loud noise caused Jimmy to cry and Michael to frown. "Damn woman got him crying now." He turned down the TV and began walking around the living room, making shooing sounds to calm Jimmy.

A small little girl with very chestnut brown in pigtails hair walked out of a room. She yawned and rubbed her large eyes. "Papa…" she called out. Michael turned around and saw little Tracey stretching her arms over her head.

"Hey honey." He said to her while rocking a still crying Jimmy.

"Why is Jimmy crying?" She asked.

"Mommy was being a meanie and slammed the door when she left for work." He told her.

"Mommy left for work? She didn't tell me bye…" Tears filled Tracey's eyes and Michael regretted immediately telling her what he did.

"Honey, honey don't cry! Oh damn it!" Both children wailed loudly and he found himself at a lost. Not even ten minutes and both children were already in tears.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Michael sighed deeply and walked to the door. He peered through the peep hold and opened the door.

Tracey's tears immediately vanished as she was held in the air, her arms out, being spun around in circles. Airplane sounds being made. When her 'airplane' landed her arms around wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist. He was cold, wet and his coat dripped melting snow. His boots left water marks in the already distressed carpet. "Uncle Trevor!" She exclaimed in joy.

"Hey my little fighter jet. How are you today?"

"Good."

"Did you do your homework?"

"No. I was taking a nap."

"Well go start your homework and Uncle T will be there in just a minute to help you out, okay?" He placed her firmly on the floor, smacked her little butt and she disappeared into the bedroom. Trevor took off his jacket throwing it off to the side. His hair stuck to his face a bit, after being trapped under his hood.

"Hey T." Michael said while still bouncing Jimmy. He did not realize the child had stopped crying and looked at his sleeping face. It would seem upon Trevor's arrival all tears were subdued. "Wow. That was quick. Usually takes Amanda a good half hour to calm him down."

Michael headed over back to his spot on the sofa, sinking into the chair. He carefully put his feet back up on the coffee table and leaned in. "What brings you by?" He asked. Trevor sat on the other end of the sofa sinking into it as well.

"To talk about that thing. You know. If we do this…it'll be the biggest job we've done so far."

"You say that every time."

"Well the jobs get bigger. Of course I'll be saying it every time."

"T – I don't know. Can we not talk about this right now? I'm watching the kids tonight since Amanda is working a double."

"You going soft on me Mikey?"

"Going soft?!"

"Shh!" Trevor pointed to Jimmy who was sound asleep in Michael's arms. The two men met eyes and Michael frowned.

"T. I have a family. I'm not saying I'm going soft, but I…I have a _family_. I want to be with them. I want to…I want to be around when Jimmy learns to walk. I want him to play baseball and go to his games. I want to make sure Tracey grows up with some self-respect. Not shaking her ass and meeting scum like me. She deserves better than that. Amanda deserves better than that. I want her not to work so hard…I want to be here for my family T."

"What about me?" Trevor asked. His voice lowered and he stared at the sleeping child in his best friends arms. "Am I not your family too, Michael?" The two men remained silent and Michael turned up the volume on the TV. It was the first few strands of thread that began to unravel the beginning of **their** end.


	3. Sweat

A/n: No copyright infringement intended.

The large ball of fire in the sky was particularly wicked that day. The sky was cloudless and gave no relief to the people down below. The sun had no remorse and slowly cooked anything beneath it. It was bizarre weather they were having. Extremely hot days followed by unfamiliar chilled nights. Despite the heat, obligations still had to be met. Children still had school. Adults still had work. Crimes still were being committed and owners still had to walk their dogs.

The ball went pretty high in the air when he threw it. He couldn't understand why both Chop and Lamar went running after it. It was a good laugh though. He also didn't understand why he was sweating so profusely. Sure it was hot, but that hot that he was sweating like an old man? With hair on his back? No. That was no explanation for that. And no, there was no hair on his back. It was just such an incredibly hot day. Even the animals looked sluggish. Chop was drooling twice as much. Lamar looked like he was dipped in the ocean.

He threw the ball again and both Lamar and Chop went running after it. The woods were filled with trees and there was some shade along the path of the park, however he was still melting into almost nothingness.

Chop and Lamar ran until he lost sight of them. He sat on the dirt and leant his back against the bark of a nearby tree. He waited for a breeze to blow through the trees but none came. The heat reminded him of his youth. The hot summer days he spent on the corner with his friends. Tanisha was there. Lamar was there. JB and Tonya sometimes.

How old was he then? Fifteen? Sixteen?

He smiled when remembering one particular summer day at the public swimming pool with Tanisha and Lamar. They goofed and laughed. Played Marco Polo and listened to classic West Coast rap. How good it used to be.

He was particularly fond of the memory of Tanisha in a bikini. She was a little more reserved than girls like Tonya, so when seeing her body like that for the first time he couldn't help but keep it a vivid memory.

As the evening came around Lamar headed home and Tanisha and Franklin bid him farewell.

"Want me to walk you home?" Franklin asked. He looked at the ground, coyly. Tanisha smiled to him. Her face glowed with joy.

"Of course." She said. Franklin's eyes opened wide and he looked at her.

"Really?"

"Yeah." She answered.

He could have scolded himself for being so eager. Without second thought he grabbed her hand and the two walked with fingers intertwined to her house.

At her front door they stared at each other. They were already at the age where he was so much taller than her. She played with her hair, running her fingers through the kinks. She was due to go to the salon. But she wasn't willing since over hearing Franklin telling Lamar he liked the natural look on black girls.

"Ah, today was fun." She said. Her eyes looked away showing her bashfulness. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if to hide. Franklin rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't look at her. Her smaller body. Her curved frame. The beautiful afro mess that was her hair. He couldn't look. He didn't know what his body would do involuntarily if their eyes met. He was scared. Scared and excited. His heart beat faster than it ever had in his entire life.

"Tanisha." He barely made out. Their eyes still hadn't met and he found he was scared to even talk.

"Yes, Franklin?" She answered him with a hope in her voice. She looked up to him and leaned closer. She was hoping. Hoping.

"Uhm. I. Damn it, Tanisha – you're like, my best friend. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"I mean it's been you, me, Lamar and everything. Always. Right?" He clenched his fist and bit his bottom lip.

"Yes, Franklin." Tanisha held her hands to her chest, as if clutching her heart. As if clutching his.

"And…" He trailed off.

"Yes?" She implored.

"I –"

"Yes?!"

He finally looked at her eye to eye. He could feel his knees weakening and his throat ran dry. Beads of sweat covered his forehead. He had nervous sweat, everywhere, like an old man. Without another moment of hesitation he grabbed her by the arms and kissed her. The frames of their bodies melted into each other. Fitting like a puzzle. She completed him.

When they parted they could hardly breathe. "I love you." He said. "I love you. I loved you since the moment I first saw your mom comb your hair on the stoop of this house."

A smiled formed on her lips. Tears welled in her eyes and she nodded. "I love you too Franklin Clinton. I loved you back at that very same moment."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I want to be your everything. Forever."

"You got it girl." He hugged her and held her body against his chest. He held her tightly as if he'd lose her if he let go.

"Franklin!" Lamar called. "Franklin!"

Franklin opened his eyes and saw Chop and Lamar running towards him. He shook his head and took himself up off the ground. He dusted his rear and stretched.

"You're really annoying, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah. How long you been here sleeping dog?"

"I don't know. How long were y'all gone for?"

"Not long. I lost the ball." Lamar shrugged.

"How did you lose the ball if I threw it to Chop?" Franklin's brow furrowed in frustration of Lamar's ignorance. How they managed to stay friends for so long, he could not figure out. As Lamar headed down the path walking with Chop, Franklin stood there watching them.

He hadn't sent Tanisha a congratulations card since she got married. He'd have to go tell her in person then. For some reason he found himself hoping she'd remember him in his swim trunks that day during that particular summer.


	4. Tell Me About Your Family

A/n: No copyright infringement intended. Possible spoiler for those who are still playing. I highly recommend finishing the game before reading fanfictions.

Fresh green grass and the smell of it did something to him. It had been a while since he played and he hoped he wasn't rusty. Solomon invited him out. Sure it was a workday day but when your boss was Solomon Richards this counted as work too.

"Michael." Solomon said as he positioned himself to swing his gold club. "Tell me about your family. Your kids. Your wife."

"You've met my family." He told him.

"Yeah, but I mean like, the details. Not all that prim and proper bullshit at dinner parties, if you know what I'm saying."

"Ah…what do you want to know?" He asked.

"Well, you said you guys aren't originally from Los Santos. Well, I don't know…how was it for you when you first got here?"

"I'm not trying to be rude sir, but why does any of that matter?"

"I feel like I'm working with a stranger." Solomon admitted. "I mean I know you – but I don't _know_ you. I know nothing about you. And come on, we're more than boss and employee, we're friends. Yeah?" With a fine swing of his club the golf ball flew off into the distance. With swings like that Solomon definitely would win the game. Michael watched the ball go and had nothing to say. The only thing he'd make sure to do was not to place any bets that he'd beat Solomon. "Well?"

"Okay. I'll tell you. It's not really a funny story, but I like it. So – it's been about a year since we lived here. And Tracey gets into this private school we've been dying to send her to."

"Mom! We have to get me lessons!" Tracey beseeched. She followed Amanda around the kitchen while she gathered materials to begin dinner.

"Why?"

"There's cheerleading practice. And – I just have to be a cheerleader. The coolest girls in school are all on the squad!"

"Trace. We send you to school to learn. Not to fit in with cool girls who are probably big bad letters that begin with b anyway." Amanda began to chop carrots and Tracey nearly lost her mind.

"Oh my God! You want me to be unpopular and fat and ugly!" She began to cry and Amanda nearly cut her fingers off when chopping. The sound of her cry was so shrill. It was like a banshee who lost her love in some sort of horror movie. In fact, Tracey's cries could have been a reason for a horror movie.

"Fat? Ugly? Tracey hun…" Amanda could hardly get words in as her daughter just stood there crying. Her mouth ajar, her eyes shut tight, and tears that ran like waterfalls. "Tracey. Tracey. Tracey Townley – "

"It's De Santa babe. De Santa. It's been a year already." Michael walked into the kitchen and grabbed a carrot off the counter. He began eating and pointed to Tracey with the same carrot. "What's her problem?"

"She wants to be a cheerleader."

"Mom wants me to be fat, ugly and unpopular!" She stopped crying to yell that. Then she resumed her banshee tears.

"What?"

"She wants to take dance lessons, so she can be good enough to try out for the cheerleading squad. I didn't even say no. I just told her those girls were probably jerks."

"Oh baby." Michael chomped into his carrot once more before returning it to the counter. He pulled Tracey into his arms and squeezed her. "You'll be a great cheerleader. Daddy does not think you need lessons."

She sniffled, feeling her father's warm embrace and his reassuring words. "Really daddy?" She asked.

"Yes baby." He said in a small childlike voice.

Amanda stopped chopping and stared at the two. A man and his daughter. They were ridiculous. Everything she said was apparently a bullet. Everything Michael said was honey. Honey glazed with sweet sugar and happiness. Something about fathers and their daughters. She wasn't like that with her father. Maybe it was why she became a stripper. Since Tracey could almost get anything from Michael she figured she could try her luck too.

"Tracey, honey. Why don't you go start your homework? Huh? Daddy and I need to talk."

Tracey beamed with joy. "Okay mom. I love you daddy." She hugged Michael a second time. Squeezed him tightly. Her little body against his made her feel safe. It also made Michael feel like a good father. For him, that was a rare occasion. Tracey released Michael and skipped out the kitchen. Yeah. She skipped.

"Yeah babe." Michael pressed his palms on the counter's edge, and leaned over to Amanda. She blushed a bit for he looked quite handsome then. He had just come home and she hadn't seen him all day. Absence does make the heart fonder. And makes one's husband sexier. He wore a white button down that exposed his forearms and the fine hair on it. She always thought he had incredibly sexy arms. He was good at talking to her too. Always could smooth her over.

"I'm thinking…" She said. For some strange reason she was unable to place her words. She knew what she wanted and that was sex. No. Actually she wanted to ask for new implants but she got so distracted looking at his arms. Wait. What did she want to ask him again?

"Yeah." He lowered his voice when hearing the uncertainty in hers. He knew he turned her on. It excited him to know he still had it in him to win her over.

"Well. Maybe Tracey could take those dancing lessons. I've seen her in her room. She could use some help with it." Why did she say that? That wasn't the plan.

"I guess. Or…" Michael made his way around the counter. He stood behind Amanda and his hands circled around her waist. He caressed her and rubbed his hands over her abdomen. He brought them higher and fondled her breasts. "We could take that money and get you bigger 'girls' right here. Not that you need them. You're already so perfect." He whispered into her ear.

Amanda burned a bright red in the face. How did he know that's what she wanted? Even so, what was with the sexy act? Where was this going? When would she finish dinner?

"Ah…maybe we should just let her take lessons. You know. She really wants to and it'll help with her try outs…is it hot in here?" Amanda could feel Michael squeezing again. Once. Twice. Three times. She could feel heat between her legs. "Damn it Michael fuck me!" She shouted.

"That's all I wanted to hear." He spun her around and she dropped the knife to the ground. He picked her up placing her on the counter, her legs wrapped around his waist. They kissed heavily and Michael sent his hands underneath her blouse, fondling her breasts again.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home! When's dinner going to be re –"Jimmy stood in the hall staring at his parents. He held his baseball bat in one hand, dragging it along the tile. He dropped that immediately. His hat fell off his head when titled it to the right, trying to get a proper view. "Are you guys…"hurting" each other?" He asked.

Little Jimmy was pale with large red curls in his hair. His freckles spotted his face like bits of sugar sprinkled on top. He wore a red and white baseball uniform. He was on the little league team. Apparently he had practice and just came home. Most likely dropped off by the team's coach.

Even more apparent was that his parents were going to have intercourse on the same counter their mother usually prepared dinner on. This was very awkward. Although he didn't have a complete understanding of what it was that was taking place he did have a wide enough set of eyes to record the moment in his head.

To make matters worse two other little boys on the same baseball team ran in after Jimmy. One shouted that he forgot his mitt. It seemed the other just came to tag along.

Now there it was. Three. Three little boys staring at Amanda with her legs wrapped around Michael. Though it could have been worse, it couldn't have been worse.

"Hey…Jim." Michael didn't know what to say. He hadn't mentally prepared to talk to Jimmy about the birds and the bees for another few years. He just learned Tracey started her period a few months ago. He wasn't ready for this.

Amanda's eyes couldn't open any wider. She thought about the mothers of the other little boys. How it'd spread quickly that her husband and her did the nasty on the kitchen counter. She wasn't ready for such judgment. She already struggled to fit into the social circle of housewives. She knew they looked down at her. She knew.

Tracey ran downstairs and headed towards the kitchen. She saw Jimmy was home and his little friends. "Why'd you bring your gross friends home Jimmy?" She headed towards the kitchen and stopped when seeing her parents in a different position than she left them.

Michael, without moving, did the math for what three new baseball mitts & bats, dancing classes and implants would cost.

And his favorite brand of whiskey.


	5. Love

A/n: No copyright infringement intended.

A common question that came up during conversation was 'Where's Trevor?' A common answer was 'I don't know.' A more frequent answer than that was 'I don't want to know' which ten out of ten times came from Michael. More recently the answer was 'with his plaything'. Yes. Everyone, even Lamar, knew Trevor had a woman. They didn't know her name, or anything about her, but they knew she existed. How did they know? Well, they didn't. They just said they believed him when he mentioned it because Trevor tended to be sensitive about certain things.

He was commonly found at the executive rental suites that were near LSU. Who found him there? Michael. By mistake. One time. Then Michael could never hear the end of how 'sugar tits' stalked him all the way to his lady friend's apartment.

Oh well.

She stood in the kitchen flipping pancakes wearing nothing but his green 'Zancudo' t-shirt. He would lay in her bed and sleep until ten, sometimes eleven am. That was early for him. He usually sprawled out. A foot poked out from under the comforter. His clothes would be a trail to her bed. In the morning after serving the pancakes she'd pick up his things and smack him with a pillow to wake him up. One would think he'd respond in rage and kill her on the spot, but for reasons unexplained he found her smile attractive when he opened his heavy eye lids.

They'd sit across from each other and eat pancakes in silence. She'd be reading the paper. He'd text Ron or someone else. Occasionally Franklin for a good laugh. Conversations would appear as such from Trevor's phone:

'Me: wat up mah homie'

Franklin: Bro, it's Saturday and I'm sleep. Don't text me again.

Me: Y u so mad?

Franklin: DON'T TEXT ME AGAIN. Thanks.

Me: Is Lamar at ur hous? If he is, let him kno I said wat up.

Franklin: Jimmy taught me a word. It's called troll. STOP TROLLIN' ME, DAWG.

Me: DON'T CALL ME A TROLL. MICHAEL IS THE ONE YOU SHOULD BE CALLING A TROLL'

The conversation normally stopped for by this time Franklin would turn off his phone, or just not respond to anymore messages. By this time his pancakes would be lukewarm while he scrolled through seeking someone else to message.

Sometimes he text Patricia, hoping she'd answer him back.

"So what is this?" She asked that particular morning.

"What's what?" He responded.

"_This_." She pointed to herself and then to him with the fork she was eating her pancakes with.

"I don't know. If you're looking for a boyfriend –"

"Did I say I wanted one? You come here every other night. We have sex and I still don't know your name. Do I sound like I want a boyfriend?"

Hmm. Saucy. He wanted to flip the table over and rip her thighs a part forcing his way into her womanhood. Wait. Isn't that rape?

"Well you wouldn't get one even if you asked. I'm not looking for a relationship."

"I just want to know what this is. For my own…for lack of a better word, understanding." She told him. She moved her pancakes out the way and folded her hands, resting them on the table. He stared at her. Where was she going with this?

"I'm your nameless muse, and in return for getting your inspiration from me, we fuck." He said. "Simple as that." He proceeded to eat his pancakes and she nodded.

"You're right." She cleared her plate from the table and disposed of the remnants of her food. While washing her dish she kept silent, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Then she didn't care. Her female genital was payment enough for what she was going to ask him next. "Have you ever been in love?"

Trevor dropped his fork. His eyes widened and he looked at her. She slowly turned around, leaning against the counter.

"What the fuck did you just ask me?"

"Love? Have you ever been in love? Well – you're older than most guys I've been with…so it's most likely." The young woman walked over and returned to her seat across from Trevor, crossing her legs. "What was her name? Or his name? Their names?"

Trevor didn't want to respond. How dare she? He was her nameless muse and she, his no strings attached sexual release. She made him feel like a man in the bedroom, but that didn't give her the right to ask about his personal life. Or did it?

He did tell her about his 'entrepreneurship'.

"Four times." He answered flatly.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He had lost his appetite and moved the remainders of his pancakes away. He leaned back in the chair, rocking it. She leaned in across the table. Her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Well then? Their names?"

"Slow down. The first was a he. It wasn't a romantic love – pfft. Not even if I was desperate. He was my best friend. I loved him like a brother. More than any of my own flesh and blood. He's sort of the reason I am who I am today."

The young woman could see in his eyes the wondrous look he got when talking about Michael. She'd never meet Michael. She'd never know him, but she'd write about who he had been from what Trevor described. Maybe he'd be a character worth a screenplay. But she wasn't sure if she was to wait to hear more. Hear his other loves.

"The second?"

"His daughter."

"…" she knew Trevor was crazy, that she didn't mind. He had killed people, thrown away bodies, had his friend lick blood off his shirt and various other things, but that was okay. Those things would make for a screenplay. However, details she was aware of and Pedophile…? She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Well she was. She disgusted.

"I loved that little girl, like she was my own." The young woman sighed. He wasn't a pedophile, just extremely sentimental. She sighed. Thank God.

"Third." She said.

"Crystal."

"A stripper?"

"The drug."

"Right." Okay – she did know he was an addict. However, he was a well performing addict. So well performing she wondered if he'd ever been sober anytime in his late adult life. If so…good for him? "The last one. Tell me about the last one."

"Patricia Madrazo."

When hearing himself say her name a sad expression painted his face. The young woman could tell she hit a nerve. "Hey, you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah." He answered and sniffled. Was he crying?

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She told him. The young woman got up from her seat and approached Trevor, hugging him. She felt guilt. A strange sort of guilt, but guilt none the less.

"No I'll tell you." Trevor said. "I'll tell you. She's a beautiful woman."

It was a dreamy day in Sandy Shores. Dreamy because the woman of his dreams had asked to go for a walk and wanted him to join her. They left early, tiptoeing out as not to wake Michael. The man had come back the previous evening with a temper so they figured avoiding him was best.

Patricia squeezed Trevor's hand tightly as they walked the dusty road of Zancudo Avenue. Trevor could not remember the last time he blushed. His face, to his ears, red with bashfulness.

"This is nice." She said. Her strawberry blonde hair showed a healthy gloss while under the early rays of the sun. He found himself in awe of her beauty. She was older than him, certainly, but she had a celestial sort of air about her. She always looked so amazing. Her stunning image was immortal.

"Yeah. Nice. Nice." He said and immediately looked away. He hoped she didn't notice his gaze. She smiled. She had noticed. Now he was embarrassed. He wanted to change the subject but they had not start a particular conversation as of yet. "Do you like it out here?" He asked.

"Oh yes. It's different. Los Santos is a busy place. Very busy. Too much goes on there."

"Yeah."

"Out here it is peaceful. Quiet."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I don't like it. I don't dislike it. It doesn't really matter honestly."

"Oh…" He looked at his feet. For some reason he could not explain why that saddened him. Maybe he hoped she would have enjoyed it way out there because…it was where he was from. It was his home. His home that he brought her into. Sure it was by force, but she was welcomed there.

"But I do like the time I'm spending with you."

"You do?"

"Yes. You're very gentle. Sweet."

"No one has ever called me that before." He admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck feeling self-conscious. Patricia touched his cheek and could only smile.

"You are wonderful. You don't need anyone to tell you that."

He could feel his heart swelling with a joy he did not know he could feel. A joy murder, meth, nor money could give him. Was this love? Was this true love? Only something like love could make one blind to the flaws of others. Something like love could make her believe he was something he wasn't. Wonderful.

Or, maybe give him the confidence to believe.

He grabbed her by the arms and stared into her eyes. His lips quivered as he leaned in, fighting the urge to kiss her.

"I'm married." She said sadly.

"...I…I know." He whispered. He released his hold on her and sighed deeply. "I know."

Patricia hugged him tightly to his surprise. He was shocked and slowly circled her with his own arms. The two held each other. He sniffled. He found himself fighting tears. Was this sadness? Was this joy? The feelings that went through him, he could not identify.

"Patricia – I. I lo –"

"Shh. Don't talk. Let us just stay here. Let us just hold one another."

"Okay." Their walk had not carried them further than Algonquin. However, it was early enough and there was no one around to see Trevor Phillips shed tears as he held the only woman to ever truly care about him. Though their time together was short, the moment would last them for a lifetime.

"He's not good enough for you." He muttered.

"Shh." She patted him on the back. She hummed an unfamiliar tune.

"You don't have to go back there. I'll never give you back."

"Shhh my sweet. It's okay."

They separated and Trevor turned away to hide his reddened face and the tear stains that painted his cheeks. Patricia rubbed his shoulder. She took his hand and motioned that they walk some more. She asked him about his childhood. His parents. Where he grew up. He told her without fear and without shame. She wasn't judgmental. She did not misunderstand him. When he choked up she rubbed his back. When he was speechless she told him it was okay not to have anything to say. This woman was all he needed. Could he ever be without her?

"I loved her more than I've ever loved anyone." Trevor found himself laying in the lap of bronze Broker babe. She fought her own tears when hearing his story. He arose and looked at the girl. "The fuck are you crying for?" He asked.

"You are beautiful. So tormented. So magnificent."

"These are things I already knew." He stated matter of factly.

"Please. Tell me your name."

"Why?" He asked. He was alarmed by her sudden desperation.

"Because I think I love you." She told him.

"…yeah. Don't say that again."

"I can't help it. You're everything I've wanted. You're the perfect muse."

"Yeah?" He asked. He leant back in his chair and unzipped his jeans. "Show me how much you love me." The girl stood before Trevor, pulling the t-shirt over her head. Her curvaceous chocolate skin revealed. She kissed him gently on the side of his mouth and got on her knees.

As Trevor threw his head back in utmost pleasure he thought of Patricia once more. Her image slowly faded in his mind as his lids fell heavy and he enjoyed how his lady friend showed him her love. Even if he didn't love her back –he loved what her mouth could do.


	6. Here and There

A/n: No copyright infringement intended.

Brown eyes looked back at a reflection in the mirror. He was a series of things in his young life. Though his accomplishments could not be things documented and shared in a textbook, he had done a lot. More than anyone he grew up with could say they did. He had more money than he knew what to do with. He had everything but –

He didn't have her.

His doorbell rang and he splashed cold water on his face. He wouldn't say it to anyone he knew nor could they see him like that – tears stains on his chocolate cheeks. Franklin in his sweatpants and a t-shirt ran upstairs to answer the front door. It was Lamar.

And Trevor.

"Yo, what the fuck are you doing here?" He snapped. He was still angry about the texts Trevor sent him earlier in the day.

"Hey, hey. That's no way to talk to your running buddy." Trevor held his hands up over in defense. "Lamar told me you were down and asked that I come and help cheer you up."

"You what -?!"

"It ain't like that. Crazy dude saw me in the liquor store nearby. Harassed me until I told him what I was up to and followed me over here. I swear." Lamar held up bags from his trip to the store. "I bought wine since you all "fly" now and don't drink 40's no more."

Franklin sighed. He already lost the battle when he opened the door. "Whatever fool. Y'all come on in." Franklin held the door open gesturing for them to enter.

Trevor and Lamar followed Franklin into his home and quickly took their shoes off when smelling lemon wood cleaner in the air. It seemed he had a cleaning service stop by. They were criminals, but polite enough – at least to their friend.

"So, what's wrong F?" Trevor said and walked over to Franklin's luxury sofa. "Why the long face?"

"Why are you here?" Franklin said from in the kitchen. He pulled out stem less wine glasses from the cupboards and grabbed the wine opener off the counter. "Shouldn't you be with your lady friend? You know, if she does in fact exist." Franklin snapped.

"Hey – I thought you believed me." Trevor threw his arms over the back of the sofa and placed his feet on the coffee table. Lamar who was ready to set the wine down quickly took it back up, seeing Trevor's less than visually pleasing feet. He twisted his lips in disgust.

"How can I when you haven't told us her name." Franklin sat beside Trevor ready to put the glasses on the table, but took hint from Lamar's face that it wasn't the best thing to do. He nodded and had Lamar follow him back to the kitchen so they could safely pour out the wine, feet free.

"I don't know her name. Don't need to. Our connection is spiritual." Trevor said with a smirk.

"Dude, the only connection you sound like you got is your dick to her pussy." Lamar commented. Trevor nodded proudly from the sofa.

"That too." From where Franklin and Lamar stood he seemed to be gloating. "Now what is your problem?" Trevor asked again. "Come on. Let Uncle T help you out."

"Did you tell this clown anything?" Franklin glared at Lamar. The tall male stepped back feeling the burn from his friend's piercing stare.

"Nah. All I said was you sounded down."

The doorbell rang again and the two young men looked at each other in confusion. "You invited other people?"

"That would be the reinforcement." Trevor got off the sofa and headed to the door. Franklin walked over to stop him but was too late. Michael ran in looking around frantically.

"Mike?" Franklin asked.

"Franklin!" Michael turned around and glared at Trevor who was pointing to the floor.

"There's a no shoe policy in this house Mikey. Franklin just got his floors cleaned."

"You said Franklin was in trouble, you bastard." Michael walked up to Trevor, rolling up his sleeves ready to tango. Certainly not in the romantic way to win Trevor's affections.

"He is. Ask Lamar over there." Michael turned around and saw Lamar who shrugged. Lamar shook his head in a way that made it clear Trevor was the trouble maker for the night and him, a victim, like the rest of them.

"No need. Just – what's going on?"

"Franklin, your daddies are here to help. Let us heal your wounds." Trevor opened his arms for embrace.

"Hold up. Man, was this shit planned? The three of you clowns at my house. Uninvited. The fuck is going on!?" Franklin had enough. He was fuming with his nostrils flared. He glared at each and every one of the men who stood around him.

"The way it look to me, it's kinda like an interracial homosexual intervention. Especially with crazy dude here."

"Now, that's mean." Trevor placed a firm hand on Michael's shoulder. "Don't insult the gays and their sexual preference by counting pork chop here as one of them."

"You mother fu-"

"Yo, you old bitches need to stop bitchin!" Lamar yelled to the two of them.

"Can you dumbasses get the fuck out of my house?! Please! I just want to be left alone!" Franklin shouted and stomped back to his kitchen catching the attention of his buddies.

"Alright, we'll go, but at least tell us what's wrong." Michael said. He removed Trevor's hand from his shoulder and approached Franklin who sat at the counter with his head down. Michael pulled up a seat next to Franklin and touched the younger man's shoulder. "Hey – no matter what it is. You can tell us. We're here to help."

"It's Tanisha." He muttered.

Trevor and Lamar made their way to the counter. They stood to the side. Trevor by Michael's side. Lamar by Franklin's.

"Who's Tanisha?" Trevor asked.

"Frank's ex-girl. We knew her from way back." Lamar told him.

"Right." Trevor nodded.

"What happened with Tanisha, Franklin?" Michael asked. His tone softened. Though Franklin had become his equal, he still viewed him like a young man in need of a father. He tried not to reveal his hidden feelings about it, when seeing Franklin looking more broken than he had ever seen him before, it ripped his heart in two.

"I wanted to try and win her back." Franklin said. His voice trembled as he hid his face with his arms while laying his head to counter. He could hear the cracking of his words for his felt knots in his throat while fighting on coming tears.

"That should be no problem, kid. You're great." Trevor chimed. He couldn't understand the issue from what was going on.

"Nah, she's married dude." Lamar told him. Trevor's eyes widened and he looked away.

"Oh…" In that regard he could empathize. More than he liked to admit. He immediately thought of Patricia and began to feel incredibly sorry Franklin.

"Well – if you can, tell us what happened." Michael didn't want to force anything that would upset Franklin more. Though he did want to hear what took place, he didn't want to if it brought his pseudo-son pain.

"Alright. Alright. I'll tell you." Franklin brought his head up and took deep breaths. His eyes were glossy and his nose, slightly wet with snot. Lamar handed him a sheet of paper towel. Franklin blew his nose loudly. He looked around, saw the group of men who showed to always be there for him in every occasion and was touched.

Trevor walked over to the bottle of wine and handed the whole thing to Franklin. "Down it and then tell us what happened. It'll make it better to listen to." He handed Michael and Lamar the glasses of wine already poured out. He opened another bottle and took it to the head. The three men observed carefully as he chugged the whole bottle without pause. They then followed suit – downing their own serving without stop.

It was apparent no one warned them wine hangovers were worse than regular hangovers. All that sugar from fermentation…

"Now tell us." Trevor wiped the remnants of the wine from his mouth with the back of his hand. Franklin looked up and met Trevor's eyes.

"I stopped by her house to give her a wedding gift. I bought her a blender. I don't know why I did that."

With thin rays of sunlight from the hour of twilight Franklin stood outside a Vespucci condo that was recently renovated. He breathed carefully and counted to 100 in his head. He had done so for 5 minutes already. Time seemed to slow down with every second he walked closer to her door. Was it the right apartment? Tonya was always doped up on crack, could she have given him the wrong address? Did he even know what he was doing there?

He had no answers to any of the questions. He told himself he wouldn't ring the bell until he did. In place of making any movements he tried to control his breathing and counting to 100.

She opened the door and stared at him. He couldn't even open his mouth.

"Franklin…" She said. Her dark hair was fashioned neatly in a proper bun. She wore red lipstick and had a black dress with matching shoes and clutch. She was dressed to impress.

"He – Hey." He could barely make out.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I uh…" He left the blender in the car. It sat in the passenger seat wrapped in expensive gift paper with a large bow on top. He didn't remember despite it sitting right next to him the entire drive. He couldn't even remember what day it was. "I…" He trailed off again.

"Look, I gotta go. I'm meeting my husban – "

"Can we talk? Please? We don't even talk anymore." He implored. His could feel his knees give in and his body became heavy.

"I have some time. Come on in." She walked back inside the apartment and he followed. He tried counting to 100 but found himself skipping numbers and starting over again.

The apartment was simple. The layout was open and the furniture modern and sleek. There wasn't much to see expect large black and white professional photos hanging on the wall from the wedding. He found himself staring at the image of her in her wedding gown. It was a shot from the back. Her face was turned to the side and her chin rested on her shoulder. The shots were taken on the beach. She had gotten married on the beach. It was her dream to do that.

"Nice place." He said. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't want her to notice they were shaking.

"What do you want Franklin?" She stood before him with arms crossed. She was still like a statue. He was afraid of her without explanation.

"I didn't congratulate you."

"There's no need." She told him.

"I want to. We've known each other for a long time and I know this is what you wanted. I'm happy you got something you wanted."

"Then why are you here?"

"I don't know. Because –"

"Franklin you're wasting your time and mine."

"Yo, would you just let me finish? I'm here to congratulate you but it seems like it was the wrong idea considering how rude you're acting right now."

"Well then you shouldn't have come!" She shouted.

Franklin found himself angry. He was trying to get closure. Make peace. He didn't want strife. He loved her too long to hate her for wanting good things for herself. Even if the good things didn't include him. He loved her too long to wish her bad things. He wanted to be upset enough to feel that way but he couldn't. He loved her too much still, and couldn't.

"I'm out. I'll just keep out of your way." He turned to exit and then felt arms wrap around his stomach. Again he couldn't breathe. This time he forgot how to count to 100.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled." Tanisha pressed her face into his back. He felt tears through his thin shirt. Franklin found himself fighting his own tears.

"I still love you. I won't do anything – I won't try and mess your life up. I just wanted to tell you I still love you and that I won't stop loving you. No matter where you are or who you're with." There. He said it. Though he expected a feeling of liberation from the shackles that was his broken heart he couldn't seem to break free from the pain of letting her go.

He pulled her arms from around him and faced her. Using his thumb, his removed tears that ran down her cheeks. She held his hand to her face as she cried more. Yes she denied him time and time again. Yes she had resisted. Yes she was married to someone else and yes she loved him.

But she loved Franklin too.

Though she never said it to herself or anyone, she loved him too. And she was mad at herself for hurting him so many times. She was mad at herself for everything.

Franklin brought his face to hers and they stared into each other's eyes. His brown eyes hazed with nostalgia from their days of young. Their lips quivered, only centimeters apart. She leaned in slightly and it happened one more time.

They kissed.

Their lips touched each other lightly and a slight feeling of euphoric tones had taken over Franklin. He wasn't a home wrecker. He wasn't a theft of this kind. Though he loved and longed for Tanisha he knew he already lost her. With this kiss he bid her farewell one last time. He wouldn't seek her out again. He wouldn't try to.

When they parted he stared at her. Her makeup, ruined. He removed one more tear from her cheek, kissing it away. Franklin smiled weakly and whispered to her. "I will always love you." He let go the woman and disappeared from the apartment.

Tanisha stood there with her tears, sobbed loudly and then sank to the floor. She covered her mouth with her hands and to no one's knowledge but hers she had on any of her fingers no wedding ring.


	7. Daddies & Date Night

A/n: No copyright infringement intended. This is a dialogue heavy chapter. Probably poorly written. Need to practice on writing more details. I promise I will next chapter, for you heavy imagery types.

Fathers and their daughter are quite a special thing. They are different and more unique than father and son. A relationship between a father and his little girl is one that can't be found anywhere. It is a bond that affects both lives significantly. Her husband will be based off the man her father was and so Michael, since the events following the reuniting of his family, made it his goal to make sure Tracey did not pick up men like him.

He didn't see it coming.

"Daddy please!" She implored. He and Tracey sat in the sofa, cozied up. He had his arm around her and they shared a few good laughs watching a movie together. Jimmy was gaming in his room and Amanda was at her yoga class. (No more private lessons for her.)

It was time for a little father daughter bonding. Until she asked what she did. "Never. Not in your wildest dreams you nutcase!" He shouted. By this time he was standing in front of the TV. yelling at the top of his lungs. Michael's face was red from ear to ear, showing his rage.

"Come on! You trust him with your life! So why can't I date him?!"

"Tracey, you're crossing lines now. Don't ask again. I said no and that's final!"

"You're being so mean!" She screamed back.

Jimmy ran down the stairs once hearing Tracey's screams. Though his sister and he were mortal enemies, when it came to their father they took each other's side. Not because they enjoyed ganging up on him – well that too – but sometimes his temper was too much for one person to handle. With that in mind it was always best to deal with him as a pair than separately.

"What's going on?" He said as he casually walked into the living room.

"Daddy is being a total dick!" She shouted.

"Who are you calling a dick!?" Michael was just about ready to strangle her until Jim jumped in between them.

"What is it?!" He asked.

"She's crazy! She's trying to give me high blood pressure or a stroke, or something like that!"

"All those burgers from Burger Shot will do the job before me going out with Franklin will!"

"Say what?!" Jimmy was astounded. That's what they were fighting for?

"You heard it from her mouth Jim. She wants me to pair her up with Franklin. She's – she's insane. I don't know where I went wrong! I don't know if it was me – or your mother –"

"Don't blame mom! She has nothing to do with this." Tracey told him.

"Dad, can we talk a sec?" Jimmy placed his arms on his father's shoulders and Michael took several death breaths to calm down.

"Tracey leave the room." He ordered. Tracey ran out the living room and stomped upstairs. They could hear the slamming of her room door and sat down to talk after. "Jimmy, what is wrong with your sister?" Michael asked. He sunk into the sofa deeply, as if wanting to disappear.

"She wants to date a black guy." Jimmy told him plainly. Michael arched an eyebrow and Jim nodded. "It's on her LifeInvader page. She said something about white guys all being the same and she needed a different flavor to spice up her dull love life."

"What the fuck? God, where have I gone wrong? I mean apart from the life of crime?"

"I think you should let her."

"What? You're taking her side?"

"No. I think you should let her – so Franklin can reject her and she can get on with her miserable life."

Michael thought about it for a second. Was that really the best idea? He didn't have any better ones, and Jimmy knew his sister well enough. Maybe it was crazy enough to work.

"So what do you say?" He sat across from Franklin and Trevor who could only burst out in laughter. They sat in the office of the strip club. Michael hoped the music was loud enough to drown out the sounds of their mockery, but unfortunately for him no such luck.

"Your kids don't have any black friends, Mikey?" Trevor rubbed tears from his eyes. He could not believe the story but had to once seeing Michael's desperation. This would be a joke for years to come.

"I don't know. Listen F – please. Just take her on a shitty date so she can see that all guys are the same load of crap and get over this ridiculous crush. Kid, I'm begging you." Michael didn't have time to be embarrassed. He just wanted it to be over.

"Alright…I guess." Franklin didn't think too hard about it. He was okay with helping Michael. They were good friends after all and what harm could be done?

Franklin stood in the foyer of the De Santa household. He wore a red button shirt, black jeans and some burgundy wingtips. He even got a fresh haircut and wore a little cologne. He mentally beat himself for looking so good. His goal was to deter Tracey, not encourage her.

Amanda stared at him intensely. "Dear lord." She muttered. She bit her bottom lip. Though she had seen him a few good times she never really studied Franklin. While waiting for Tracey to come down she had plenty time to do so. And she did. God was he gorgeous. "Just…let her down easy." She told him. Franklin looked at his watch and back to her.

"I will." How would he? There was no easy way to let her down looking that good.

Tracey walked down the stairs wearing a tight white dress and her hair let out on her shoulders. She was glossed up in expensive make-up. A smoky look, intensified with a bright red lipstick. Her heels, as red as her lips. It was clear what her goal was.

Franklin's eyes widened. Though she looked incredible – all he could think was that it was Michael's daughter and she was asking for something or another wearing things like that. Though she wasn't his type he'd throw a few dollars at her if she worked the pole. Franklin then reprimanded himself for thinking so lowly. He had been talking to Lamar too much.

"Ready?" She swung her hips side to side. Oh yeah. She wanted it.

"Don't stay out too late." Amanda plotted to steal that dress from Tracey in the near future. She and Michael could use the inspiration.

"Don't worry. We won't be. Just some food and a movie." Franklin told her. Tracey pouted while she followed him out but it soon vanished when seeing Franklin's motorcycle. "We're riding that?" She asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. My car's in the shop." He handed her a helmet and put on his own as he climbed on. As Tracey hopped on the back and wrapped her arms around Franklin's waist tightly Amanda watched with an open mouth. How could he let her down gently when being that cool? She felt sorry for her daughter, who would only get her hopes up as the night continued.

Michael and Trevor sat outside in Michael's car and watched as Franklin rode off. He couldn't believe he let Trevor talk him into following them. He couldn't believe he agreed to let her go out with Franklin. He couldn't believe he was alive.

"Alright, go, before they get too far ahead." Trevor pointed.

"Why are we doing this? I trust Franklin. I mean, really. Tracey is not even his type."

"So? He's a man Michael. And if he's snake like you, he can't be trusted with our Tracey."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"No. Now drive."

Michael sighed and stepped on the gas to play 'over protective father' under the advisement of Trevor. He should have died. He should have died a long time ago. He wanted to.

Franklin and Tracey stood in line at Burger Shot. Tracey occasionally caressed Franklin's arm, or tried to. He caught her hand with each attempt, and returned it to her side. Upon doing so he stared out the window of the fast food joint, feeling eyes on him. The line was fairly long, and he was placing thought into what would be best to eat without it killing him.

Tracey pouted. Why was he resisting her? She wore her best dress and looked amazing. She was sure of it. How could he not want her right then and there?

"What do you want?" Franklin asked her without looking away from the menu. Tracey did not answer and he looked her. "Hey, I asked what you want."

"Nothing." She muttered.

"Are you hungry?" He asked. He couldn't believe that she didn't want anything at all.

"I said I don't want anything."

"I didn't ask you if you wanted anything, I asked if you were hungry." He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at her. Tracey found herself blushing to his gaze. His creamy chocolate complexion and his star dusted brown eyes made her body hot all over. She wanted so badly to kiss him, though not in a forceful way. Gentle and proper, like a princess to a prince.

"I am hungry…" She admitted.

"Why don't you want anything then?" He asked.

"It's just – there's this audition coming up and I have to be 115 pounds for the role."

"Oh, shit. That's small."

"All I had today was a salad." Tracey lowered her head in embarrassment. She didn't tell anyone about that. Not even her mother.

"Dang, you must be starving. Why don't you let me buy you something?"

"No! I can't put on a pound!"

"Nah, it's cool. Tell you what. I'll get you a chicken burger. No dressing or anything on it. Just the bread, just the chicken. That cool?"

"…well…I guess."

"I trust Franklin, Trevor." Michael told him. They sat in the parking out of Burger Shot, peering into the restaurant with binoculars Trevor stole off some hitchhikers. Michael didn't ask about the details.

"I know that. I do too. But I don't trust his manly instincts. And your daughter is a looker. Suppose he changes his mind and wants to bang her later? Huh? You don't know that."

Michael lowered the binoculars and stared blankly at Trevor. Why would he say that? "No." He said. Never.

"You know what – it's fine. We can just leave them. Then Franklin can become your real son, son-in-law that is, and…you can have all the interracial grandbabies Tracey can pop out of her."

"There's no way –"

"It's good. We're good. I think I'd make a great grandfather. I have all the right qualities anyway."

"You need to have children before you can have grandchildren."

"Of course I'll have kids."

"Yeah? What woman would be crazy enough to let you plant seed inside her?"

"Hey, for all you know I have a surrogate!"

"I don't want to know. The idea any woman would agree to that – just insane. Insane like me sitting here in this car with you right now, spying on Tracey and Franklin. Who is not going to come on to my daughter, because he's a trustworthy young man!" Trevor stared at Michael. It was obvious his comrade was trying to convince himself of something. He shook his head slowly.

"Denial is a powerful my friend. Very powerful."

"So, like, you're really nice." Tracey told Franklin. She leaned over the table staring deeply at Franklin while he ate. Franklin, although a bit comfortable tried to eat in peace. He was just glad she ate her own meal considering her salad only diet.

"Uh, thanks." He said after gulping down his soda.

"No, I mean it. I know that my dad put you up to this, but you came out with me and I really appreciate it." He lowered her head a bit. Franklin stopped eating to take in what it was she had to say. "I mean – I know I'm not you're type." She said. "But it's nice of you. And, thanks for being my dad's friend too. He and Uncle Trevor have been friends forever but I don't think it's like, the healthiest relationship, you know?" Franklin nodded immediately to that statement.

"What the fuck are they saying?" Trevor asked. Michael frowned and adjusted the binoculars.

"T – I'm not a mind reader. I'm reading their lips as best I can." He told him. "They seem to be agreeing on something."

"What is it?"

"I don't know! Geez! Shut up already."

"Yeah, I got you. I understand. Hey, your dad taught me some stuff, so I'm grateful."

"Yeah…and it's just – I mean you're much closer to my age, but you hang with him. That's really sweet." Tracey began twirling her fingers in her hair and Franklin bit his bottom lip. She was attractive. More than he wanted to admit to himself.

"How about that movie?" Franklin asked. He waited for her response.

"No thanks. I think I'll just go home."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I just realized, if tonight did go great, by some weird chance and we like, started dating, I think it'd be too weird for my dad. Besides, I can always can always get some boyfriend, but my dad can't always get good friends, like you." Tracey smiled honestly when saying that to him. Franklin found that despite the dysfunction, Michael's family was not so bad.

The two of exited Burger Shot and hopped on Franklin's bike. They rode off and Michael and Trevor followed.

Outside the De Santa household Tracey kissed Franklin on the cheek and bid him farewell for the night. She walked inside and Trevor and Michael watched ever so carefully.

"Why'd he bring her back so soon?" Michael asked.

"Maybe they're going to meet up somewhere later for wild anal sex."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?"

"Why would you say that to me?"

"Isn't that what you were thinking?"

"No."

"Oh. I'm thinking Frank is probably too big for your daughter's rear end opening."

Michael stared in disgust. How he and Trevor managed to even sit in the same vehicle together so long was beyond him. He turned away and saw Franklin tapping on the glass of his window. Michael rolled it down and greeted Franklin with a big smile.

"So how'd it go?"

"You should know, since you mother fuckers followed us."

"…you could tell?" Trevor asked

"Yes, you clown, I could tell."

"…I figured. Michael, I told you it was a bad idea."

"Put a sock in it Trevor."

"Listen, you got a great daughter man. She's really cool."

"So – you didn't let her down?"

"She might have let me down instead. I'm off. Good night, dumb and dumber." Franklin walked away from the car leaving Michael and Trevor to stare as he rode off into the night. They looked at each other and then away from meeting eyes.

"I'm starting to think – it would have been good to have Franklin as a son-in-law." Michael said.

"Me too. We could have been such a happy family." Trevor sighed. "Well…we could ask Lamar –"

Michael could only feel an even deeper rage building inside him and sharpley glared at Trevor. "Get out of my car."


End file.
